


An Honest Conversation

by Bobbadopolous



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 15:22:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobbadopolous/pseuds/Bobbadopolous
Summary: Set after 1x09Max and Michael have an honest conversation





	An Honest Conversation

Max sighed as the junkyard came into view. He knew the coming conversation was unavoidable but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to it. He could hardly remember a time when talking had been easy for them, all the casual banter had disappeared along with anything resembling deep and meaningful, the day Rosa Ortecho had died.

Still Michael needed to know about Isobel’s cure and he deserved to know about the potential fourth alien.

Pulling up to the junkyard he saw Michael in his familiar position, sitting on a chair in front of his fire pit, staring into the flames, a seemingly ever-present bottle of tequila in his hand. Max did not take it as a good sign that he had forgone the glass in the dirt beside him and was instead swigging directly from the bottle.

He looked at his brother and thought back to the person he had once been.  
Don’t get him wrong he’d always been scruffy and somewhat beaten and bruised by the world, but the look of defeat he wore these days… that was something that only appeared after that fateful night. The Michael Guerin who had been knocked down and gotten up so many times in the past had hit the mat and stayed down, and that’s where he’d been ever since. It was understandable, he guessed, but that didn’t make it any easier to witness.

Michael reacted to the approaching vehicle, shielding his eyes from the headlights with his beat up left hand while his right remained protectively wrapped around the bottle.

If it were possible, Max thought, Michael looked even more hopeless and directionless than usual. It made him stop and reconsider his usual strategy of waltzing in guns blazing and laying it all on the table, then hot tailing it out of there before things got too real and they were forced to have a conversation that was ten years and too many traumas in the making. 

Then Max wondered if maybe it wasn’t that Michael was more miserable than usual, maybe it was that Max, for the first time in a long time, was feeling something akin to happiness and hopefulness. He wondered if, just a short 24 hours ago, before there was a cure for Isobel and before Liz had kissed him, he had looked as despondent as Michael. 

He shut off the engine and resolved to be more patient with his brother. He could guess how the news about Isobel would be received but as for the second bombshell, well who knew how that would land and what the damage would be. Max wasn’t relishing telling Michael that he had a lead on a potential alien family member only to have to tell him that they had died over twenty years ago. Michael really didn’t need any more disappearing family members but knowing and not telling him felt like the bigger betrayal. So here he was, sitting in his car for an awkwardly long amount of time, gearing up for a shitty conversation.

‘Just do it already’ he cursed himself silently, forcing himself out of the car.  
“Hey man,” he said lamely.

“Deputy Evans, what do I owe the pleasure?” Michael asked and Max could tell by the gentle slur of his voice that there was more than a little acetone mixed in with the tequila.

“We need to talk,” Max said, repeating the ‘be patient’ mantra in his head. Drunk, snarky Michael was not his favourite incarnation of his brother.

“Yeah?” Michael replied in a tone that heavily implied that he would also rather not being having this conversation, “What is it this time?” 

“It’s Isobel,” Max said, knowing that it would get Michael’s attention. And right on cue the other man’s posture stiffened and whatever smart ass remark he was preparing to deliver died before it could be spoken. Michael could be a flippant asshole about a lot of things, but he loved Isobel. “She’s okay,” Max reassured him, “better thank okay actually, Liz is pretty sure the antidote is going to work.”

“Why didn’t she call me?” Michael asked angrily, “We’ve spent weeks working together…”

“She tried,” Max said, putting a halt to Michael’s self righteous indignation before it got away from him, “You haven’t been answering your phone.”

Max watched as Michael scrambled to retrieve his phone from his pocket. The combination of alcohol impaired coordination, past injury and the fact that he wouldn’t let go of the tequila bottle made the action more difficult, and infinitely more entertaining, than it should’ve been.

At last Michael wrestled the phone free from his jeans and stared accusatorily at the screen. Yep there were about twelve missed calls split between Liz and Max. Michael rested the phone on his knee and used his now free hand to wipe across his face, as though it would clear his fuzzy mind and help him focus. The afternoon spent spilling his guts to Alex had taken its toll. And then Alex had left with so much unsaid and so much uncertainty hanging between them, leaving Michael feeling rung out and tired and not much else.

“When?” Michael asked, when would he have his sister and main confidant back? Isobel was the founder and sole member of the Michael Guerin Doesn’t Completely Suck club. She seemed to be the only person these days who didn’t mind being in the same room as him and the loss of her had been immense. 

“Tomorrow,” Max said and Michael sighed with audible relief.

“Look, there’s something else we should talk about,” Max said rubbing the back of his neck, the way he did when he was nervous. 

“Does it have to be tonight?” Michael asked, “it’s been a long day.”

The Max from 24 hours ago would’ve argued his point and said what he had to say but the new, enlightened Max, who was born from an alien antidote and a kiss, didn’t want to make his brother any unhappier than he obviously already was.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Don’t worry Deputy, it’s nothing you’re going to have to clean up for me,” Michael said defiantly.

Max felt the sting of the accusation but couldn’t really defend himself against it. Too many of their interactions in the last decade had ended with Max delivering a sermon. Sometimes he didn’t even like the sound of his own voice when he was laying down the law, he just figured someone had to do it and he felt so damn responsible for the three of them.

Max knew he could leave now and Michael would be happy for it, he even considered it for a good long moment before rolling his eyes and plonking himself down on the old rickety chair next to Michael’s.

“What happened?” he asked again, consciously working to make the words come out gentler and less judgemental.

If Michael had been stone cold sober he would’ve put up a wall and stood his ground until Max got frustrated and left but the acetone/alcohol combo was weakening his defences. That and the fact that talking to Alex had put him in touch with his seventeen-year-old self and his seventeen-year-old self had always talked to Max… within reason.

“Just a little visit from the ghost of Christmas past,” Michael said cryptically, even at seventeen he hadn’t made it too easy for Max.

“Does this have anything to do with the fact that I passed Alex Manes halfway down the road to this place?” Max asked. He knew he was on unsteady ground mentioning Alex.  
Max had known or at least suspected there had been a strong connection between the two in high school. He’d waited and waited for Michael to confide in him about it, as he had done countless times in reverse about Liz, but Michael never had and then they’d stopped talking altogether.  
He’ll admit it had been a dick move to use it as ammunition in their argument the other day but even he hadn’t predicted just how much the words would impact Michael. It was like he’d thought he was throwing a punch when in reality he was lobbing a grenade.  
He knew as soon as Michael’s eyes had glassed over and his voice had caught in his throat that that particular wound ran deeper than he could’ve anticipated and when he had apologised to Michael he had meant it.

“It might,” Michael admitted, it wasn’t much but it was a start.

“Are you two…?” Max tried to insinuate the rest with a raised eyebrow.

“I told him,” Michael blurted out. He knew he was going to have to tell Max some time.

Max straightened in his chair and looked at Michael like he’d gone insane, “You what?”

“To be honest he already kind of knew, I just didn’t deny it.”

“He’s air force Michael,” and just like that the lecturing tone was back.

“Thanks for the update Max,” Michael shot back mirroring Max’s voice.

“This is serious,” Max said staring straight into Michael’s bloodshot eyes.

“Don’t worry Maximo,” Michael said staring right back unashamed, “Alex isn’t going to tell anyone our little secret.”

“You can be sure of this?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, the word somehow managing to be quiet and forceful at the same time and, for some reason he couldn’t explain, Max believed him.

“How’d he take it?” Max asked, he was gathering by Michael’s inebriated state and the fact that he was alone, that it hadn’t gone well.

Michael shrugged, “he found out I’d been lying to him for over a decade, and helped cover up his best friend’s sister’s murder… how do you thing he took it?”

“Maybe he just needs some time,” Max suggested weakly, he wasn’t used to Michael being this open and vulnerable. It was unsettling and uncomfortable and at the same time reassuringly human – something that Michael almost never was.

“Yeah,” Michael huffed out a humourless laugh, “Maybe.” It was clear to both of them that Michael didn’t even dare to hope it was the truth.

“You never spoke about him,” Max said, emboldened by Michael’s sudden openness, “Back in High School, I mean.”

“And yet you still knew about it.” Michael hated to admit it, but he was more than a little curious to know how Max had figured it out.

“It didn’t take a genius, man” Max said quirking his lips at the memory of the usually stoic genius floundering a little in Alex’s presence, “you changed when you were around him.”

Michael just shrugged, at a loss of how to respond to that while Max worked up the courage to ask the question he’d always wanted to.

“Why?” he asked before realising he probably needed to elaborate a little, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was nothing to tell,” Michael said and Max scoffed in response.

“Really,” Michael said, “it was over as soon as it began.”

“Why?” Max asked.

“Rosa,” Michael admitted, “and this,” he said holding up his mangled hand.  
“I wasn’t lying when I said there was nothing to tell. The day we got together was the day my hand was broken and the day Rosa died.”

“We never did talk about how your hand was broken,” Max admitted a feeling of shame creeping in, “I mean the real reason.”

“Well it was mostly the truth,” Michael said, “It was a fight and a guy did wreck my hand.”

“How’d it happen?”

Michael looked between his hand and Max, contemplating how it would be to finally share that particular secret.

“Alex had this tool shed out the back of his house, he let me crash there sometimes when it was cold out,” Michael said finally, in the same quiet yet assertive voice.

Max shifted uncomfortably in his seat, he had known Michael had been living in his car for most of senior year. He’d made sure Michael knew there was always a bed at his place but Michael had been hesitant to take anything that could be seen as charity and Max knew that being in the Evans home was not the warm cosy experience for Michael that it was for Max and Isobel.  
For Michael it must’ve been like looking around at a life that could’ve been yours, arguably should’ve been yours. It was a relief for Max that Michael had had somewhere else to go and someone else who had cared but it still stung a little that he hadn’t been the one to give that to him.

“That day,” Michael continued and they both knew which day he was referring to, “I kissed him at the UFO museum and he took me back to the tool shed and we…” Michael trailed off unsure of how much detail Max actually wanted about that encounter and unsure how much he actually wanted to share, but Max wasn’t stupid and he caught pretty quickly.

“Oh,” he said eyes widening slightly but he supposed he shouldn’t really be surprised, Michael had always been a faster mover than he was.

“Yeah well, that didn’t end so well.”

“Lack lustre huh?” Max asked teasingly, happy for a chance to break the tension a little. He knew if the conversation looked like it was getting too deep and meaningful Michael would shut up shop for the night.

Michael thumped him lightly on the arm but he was smiling slightly, “That’s never been my issue.”

“So what happened?”

“His Dad walked in,” Michael said and any smile that might’ve been lingering at the corner of his mouth disappeared and suddenly his voice was sounding awfully detached, “He didn’t see anything R rated but it was pretty obvious what had just happened.”

Max didn’t know a lot about Alex’s father, met him a couple of times when their professional lives had crossed but not enough to form an opinion either way. 

“He picked up a hammer,” Michael said, his face was shut down and his voice held no emotion, like he was just listing facts, “He grabbed Alex round the throat, I stepped in. The next thing I know I’m getting a hammer to the hand. One, two, three, four strikes.”

“Jesus,” Max said and it was all he could think to say.

“It’s kind of hard to build any kind of relationship on that foundation,” Michael said shrugging.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Max asked, he felt himself flooding with remorse even though it was useless and self indulgent.

“I would’ve,” Michael said, “But it kind of got overshadowed by a multiple homicide, remember?”

The two men sat in silence for a while marinating in the memories of that awful night.

“I don’t know what to say,” Max admitted finally.

“There’s nothing to say,” Michael replied, “It’s ancient history.”

“It’s not though, is it?” Max said, “Alex is back in town, he and Liz know the truth, it seems like all our ancient history is rushing forward to meet us.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Michael admitted, “I was sick of the secrets.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The silence settled back around them. Michael looked at the bottle of tequila he’d been nursing all night and tipped it out onto the ground. Max watched in fascination, in living memory he’d never seen Michael waste a drink.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after,” Max said finally.

Michael waved away his apology in a move that surprised himself. He’d always thought he wanted an apology from Max but now that he was getting it he realised he didn’t need it.

“Nah Max, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Michael said, voice less hollow than before, “we were stupid kids, who did a stupid thing and we’ve let that define us for the last ten years.”

Max nodded in agreement but he was going to let himself off the hook so easily. He had failed Michael and that would take a while to get over.

“The good news is, the secret’s out,” Michael said and there was a note of optimism in his voice that hadn’t been there before, that hadn’t been there for a decade, “It can’t define us anymore.”

“Amen to that,” Max said and he felt as though a leaf had been turned. Even if it was just for a night, it was wonderful to feel close to Michael again. Max decided that they could talk about other aliens tomorrow, tonight was just for them.


End file.
